Always Oblige
by paynesgrey
Summary: Whatever Samuel wants, Lydia has to obey. Takes place around "Tabula Rasa" in Season 4. Warnings for some dubious psychological consent with Lydia's abilities. Lydia x Samuel. ONE-SHOT.


AN: Takes place around "Tabula Rasa" in Season 4. Written for my A-Z meme for the prompt 'O – Obedience' for Lydia and Samuel. This one-shot will not be continued.

Always Oblige

He was waiting for her when she silently crept through the door, letting it creak it slightly to make her presence known.

"He's asleep," Lydia said, referring to their new guest, Sylar, who was now tucked away in her trailer. Samuel turned around to her with a solemn smile.

"Good," he said, staring at her as she sashayed over to him. "Aren't you staying with him for the night?" It wasn't really a question; Lydia knew this. He was challenging her. She knew where he wanted her to be. She came to his shoulder, hovered, and watched the light and dark reflect within his eyes.

"I came here," she said simply. Her hand lightly trailed up his arm and rested on his shoulder. He looked down at her hand, and she struggled to compose herself when he snatched her wrist, pulling her roughly from behind him so she met his eyes. She rested her other hand on his chest, and Samuel leaned inside, his lips moving close to hers. She felt his breath on her face, and it felt so unnaturally hot - like heat radiating from the Earth's core itself. She spoke before he could make a move. "I assumed you wanted me here tonight. Someone is watching my trailer. We'll know if Sylar stirs."

Samuel made a noise of affirmation and placed a light kiss on her cheek. Lydia, pushing back her natural animosity for their new leader, smiled at him and kept her emotions in check. As a trained empath, she was skilled in manipulating her own emotions - to seem more interested and more pliant than she really was. As usual, Samuel didn't see her falter, and he fell for her mysterious wiles. If he really knew how she felt about him, this wouldn't be happening, and this pseudo-alliance would be torn. She might even be in danger and her daughter too.

Lydia lifted a hand and placed it on Samuel's cheek, and he moved against her palm, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. His hands became busy with the delicate buttons on her dress, and she let him proceed, knowing her nakedness was the least of her concern. She was used to it anyway; it was her nature and she always felt comfortable with the cool chill of the air against her skin no matter who was around - not even Samuel.

He spoke, and Lydia caught the lilt of his accent in his raspy whisper. "There will be no ink tonight." She nodded, and she followed his lead as her hand snaked under his shirt, untying strings and removing his vest.

He pulled her to his bed, and somewhere, in the back of her mind, she used the image of Edgar to soothe her nerves. Sweet Edgar - thinking of him always brought her through moments like these. She would open her eyes and see his face in her mind, and she could do anything and she'd let anything be done to her. She wouldn't mind, not even if it were Samuel taking her.

She felt him tie her wrists, and she smiled wryly at Samuel. Well, he was predictable. He liked games far too much, and she was in no position to deny him. The bindings were tied tightly, and he leaned down and planted deep kiss in the swell between her breasts. Hands became greedy, and the more her ability _touched_ him, the more she felt him push deep inside her, emotions creeping and leaking out like the ink he used on her body. She gasped, seeing the pain, seeing the anger, and seeing what he wanted her to see - only some things slipped out. Brotherly love, brotherly hatred, and the unyielding desire to expand his power and keep everyone under his control.

Samuel leaned over her, and she watched him with wide eyes, naked and warm as he moved against her, inside her, lifting her body to settle himself, and bringing her to meet his pace. He stilled, just for a small moment, and he smirked at her, putting a finger to her lips when she became too loud - feeling too much, her senses going into overload, boiling over and dripping out like blood from a wound as she delved in deeper.

She didn't want to. She didn't want to feel so much. Damn her powers to hell, and damn _him_ for wanting her to feel. He wanted her to see him, touch him, and know him. He wanted her to _understand_ - to feel the pain and loneliness and greed that he felt. He wanted the darkness in him to seep into her, and Lydia didn't want it. She wasn't playing anymore. He rose with her, clawing inside, currently unwanted - but it was too late. She couldn't withdraw now, even if she wanted to. He had her. Her wrists were sore against the bindings. She pulled with futility, and thrashed and squirmed underneath him, only encouraging him to take her more - _harder_.

He clamped a rough, callused hand over her mouth as she tried to cry. She smelled the earth on him - the calm, patient earth that smelled of deceit and murder on his skin. He pushed into her with a spasm, released, and came down softly like rain. She stilled underneath him, exhausted, and he leaned down and kissed her forehead like a father does a child.

She belonged to him. She had to obey. Always. Who was she to think she could play his own game and turn tables against him? Lydia would always do as Samuel said, even if her heart rebelled, and even if her muscles cringed, fighting the natural urges to push back. This, in the here and now, was nothing. It was just sex, and that was all Lydia would give him willingly without putting up a fight. But when his thoughts crept into her, thoughts she did not dare touch, she felt the violation. She felt the demand, as if he was grabbing her face and pushing it into the oily sand.

Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, and she glared at him through the dark. Backup lights from trailers outside let in odd reflections into the room, and they shaped a dark picture of him, still straddling her and smiling like a demon summoned from the hells below. He delighted in the fear she felt. She knew it thrilled him, inspired him, and gave him strength.

She turned her expression, looking at him with pity she knew he wouldn't be able to stand. It was all she could do, all the power she had left to meet him straight on, the only advantage she could claim. But everything else about her belonged to him. She didn't know for how long; Lydia didn't believe it'd always be this way. Someday, something or someone would save them from him - stop him and rescue them all from the darkness and deception that threatened to consume them all.

Someday, she wouldn't have to come at Samuel's command or exercise his whims as his own personal empath. Soon, Lydia would be free from him - free of his evil that leaked inside her and still simmered underneath her shivering skin.

END


End file.
